


first meetings and slow realizations

by thatssupersketch



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, i'm not even sorry tbh, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatssupersketch/pseuds/thatssupersketch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of 8 height difference AU prompts found on tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. not so regular

**Author's Note:**

> this all came out of a long bus trip with nothing to do...i'll update every day for a week and a day. sorry if it's a little rough, sleep deprivation and all
> 
> prompt #1 - "I'm in a bookshop and I really need that book can you get it for me??? wait you've read that book? let's have an in depth conversation about it"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for haley! :)

"Oof!"   
  
A small blonde was at the opposite end of the store, wildly jumping in a desperate attempt to reach something on the bookshelf. Unfortunately for her, she was quite short, and whatever book she was wanting was on the top shelf.  She was huffing and her curly blonde hair got larger and crazier at every wild swing she made.   
  
Bellamy watched her amusedly from behind the cash register, leaning lazily on his arm, head in hand. Tt was rather adorable, and it wasn't like he had anything else to do. Even though he had the afternoon shift, hardly any people came in. as much as he loved this little run down bookshop, it sure didn't get much customer attention. However, there were a few regulars.   
  
The small blonde in the store was one of them. He saw her maybe once a week, and she was always cordial, but usually distracted and in a rush. Bellamy wasn't sure if she was running late today or just flustered about the 'small' issue of not being able to reach her book.   
  
With one last look at the door, just to make sure no one else was coming in, he made a split second decision. Fighting a grin, he stepped out behind the counter and made his way over to the focused girl, who currently had her hands planted firmly on her hips. As he approached behind her, he couldn't help but notice the section she was looking at. History? Really? He could've pegged the blonde for a lot of things, but he never could've imagined history...he was chuffed, honestly.   
  
Choosing that moment to make his entrance, he leaned over her shoulder. "Need some help?"  
  
She jumped back and bumped into his chest, her face getting redder by the second.   
  
"Um..," she looked at the ground sheepishly as she took a step away from Bellamy. "Yeah, if you wouldn't mind."  
  
He laughed softly and eased toward the bookshelf.  "What were you looking at, princess?" The moniker came out of his mouth with ease, almost as if this was a natural thing to call the bookstore's pretty regular. It definitely wasn't, he had never actually spoken to her before, but it fit like a glove.   
  
She sighed, crossing her arms. but when he turned to smile at her, the annoyance dissipated from her face and in its place, a smile had begun to emerge. "Dante," she replied, eyes flicking up to the top shelf. "It’s as high as you can get," she said drily.   
  
"Much to my assistance," Bellamy said cheekily.   
  
She quirked and eyebrow at him, and he put his hands up in surrender.  "What? I like to see pretty little blonde regulars in here work for it. "  
  
She laughed, and waved him off. “It’s not princess, or pretty little blonde regular. It’s Clarke."   
  
He pulled the book easily out of its' home on the shelf and placed it in her waiting hands. "Alright, then Clarke," he said, leading her over to the checkout counter. "I have to admit I never had you pegged for a history kind of girl."  
  
Clarke shrugged, following his lead to the counter, placed her bag on the counter, as well as the book. "It’s not my forte, but I really like Virgil and homer, so one of my friends suggested Dante."   
  
Bellamy rang her up, taking his sweet time. He wasn't about to dismiss this girl as soon as he had finally had an actual conversation with her, about history, no less.   
  
"I approve," he said with a grin. "And if you ever needed any clarification on it, I could certainly help you out..."  
  
She looked indignant. "Are you insinuating I'm not smart enough to understand it?" She briskly handed him her card, and he swiped it.   
  
"No, no!" he said hurriedly. "It’s just I'm a classics major, so..." Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck, and avoided eye contact. "I'm sorry if that sounded rude." He bagged her book, and set it on the counter.   
  
She lightened up at the prospect and leaned forward on the counter. "could you?"  
  
Bellamy smiled genuinely. "Absolutely."  
  
"Alright, then," Clarke said, a twinkle in her eye. "Meet me at the cafe for coffee this Saturday at 11."  
  
Bellamy's eyes widened with realization, and he was astounded. He expected her to laugh off the offer rather than accept it. "Sure!" he replied rather quickly.   
  
She picked up her bag from the counter, winked at him, and waltzed out, but not before calling "It's a date!" out over her shoulder.  
  
It was safe to say the rest of Bellamy's day passed by in a Clarke filled haze.   
  
Not that he minded. 


	2. lucky charms, lucky stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "you were trying to reach for a box of cereal and a whole shelf's worth of cereal boxes fell on you here let me help"
> 
> for the lovely maddie. my muse ;)

A crash resounded through the apartment, waking Bellamy from his deep sleep. He pulled on a shirt and headed to the kitchen, which seemed to be the source of the racket, to go see what his sister had done this time.   
  
Instead of Octavia, however, it was Clarke, Octavia's best friend. She was here at least 75% of the time, even though she adamantly protested she had her own apartment. She didn't seem to use it much. The Blake's apartment was like a second home to her, as Octavia was a sister, and Bellamy was that annoying older brother who sometimes gave her rides on a good day.   
  
Clarke sat on the floor, limbs sprawled, amidst a pile of cereal boxes. It seemed as if they declared war on her when she tried to get cereal, which Bellamy admittedly stocked on the top shelf. If he didn't, it was too easy for Monty to get, and Monty had a thing for lucky charms. This was Bellamy's favorite type of cereal, and no matter how much he loved his friend, it was his cereal.   
  
He approached his sister's friend cautiously, poking her with his outstretched foot. "Are you okay?"  
  
She glared at him from amidst the rubble. "The cereal attacked me."  
  
Bellamy snickered, offering his hand to pull her up, which she reluctantly accepted and was pulled to her feet. "I keep it on the top for a reason, princess."   
  
She huffed, and leaned down to pick up the fallen cereal boxes. "That’s not fair," she muttered.   
  
"What’s that?" Bellamy cupped his ear with his hand. "You’re complaining about where I put the cereal in my apartment?"   
  
"You know I like to eat here in the mornings if I stay the night," she whined. Clarke began handing him the boxes to put away, but set the box of lucky charms aside.   
  
"Yeah, yeah," Bellamy said, organizing the boxes as they were before Clarke had assaulted them. Turning back to Clarke, he found her with a spoon of lucky charms halfway to her mouth. She smiled deviously at him before taking a bite, her eyes never leaving his.   
  
He narrowed his eyes at her, but as it was 8 in the morning, he didn't feel awake enough to spar with the little blonde spitfire in his kitchen. Bellamy sighed, joining her on a barstool. She poured him a bowl, and they ate together in a comfortable silence.   
  
He glanced at her bowl, and frowned. "You’re not even eating it right."   
  
Clarke stuck her tongue out at him. "It’s cereal, silly. How else am I supposed to eat it?"  
  
Bellamy showcased his bowl. "You eat all the oats first, and save the marshmallows for last."   
  
Clarke's eyes widened in realization. "'Tavia does that too."  
  
"Who do you think taught her that?"  
  
She laughed and nudged him with her elbow. Bellamy decided sharing his lucky charms with Clarke wasn't the worst way to start a day. She was good company, and even cleaned her bowl out when she was done.   
  
The next time Clarke was over and decided she wanted breakfast, she noticed the cereal was where it always had been- but there was a box of lucky charms on the middle shelf (in easy reach) with a post it note stuck to the side that read:  
  
_got you your own box. try not to spill this time :)_


	3. heart eyes and heart stickers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt #3
> 
> "we're both baristas and sometimes I have trouble reaching for things and I show up at work one day to find a personalized stool with hearts and my name on it I hATE YOU but also thanks"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for carly! :)

("we're both baristas and sometimes I have trouble reaching for things and I show up at work one day to find a personalized stool with hearts and my name on it I hATE YOU but also thanks")  
  
Clarke loved nothing more than serving good coffee. It was artistry in its own right. Rather, she liked drawing pictures in the coffee foam. The customers ate it up, and she increased the flow of customers during her shift. Clarke was pretty sure that was the only reason she hadn't been fired yet.   
  
She was a bit of a klutz. It wasn't her fault though, not really. She couldn't help that she was short and had a hard time reaching some of the supplies that were beyond her reach. She’d managed to knock things down enough that it had drawn the attention of her coworker, Bellamy.   
  
Bellamy was the complete opposite of Clarke. He may not have had any artistic skill, but he supplied the people centric atmosphere that Clarke lacked. They made a great team whenever they worked shifts together, but Bellamy made sure he took advantage of every chance he had to tease Clarke about her height inferiority.   
  
One day, Clarke had enough. She was tired of not being able to reach things, so she perilously tried to climb the shelf, only to be startled by Bellamy's amused snickers behind her. She turned her head to shoot him a glare and consequently lost her grip. Clarke landed on her back. Bellamy stepped into her line of sight, a wicked grin on his face.   
  
"Need some help, princess?"  
  
"No," Clarke huffed and pulled herself up.   
  
He crossed his arms as if pleased with the situation. "Suit yourself."   
  
"The nerve of that guy," Clarke muttered under her breath.   
  
Fortunately, Clarke finished the rest of their shift without either falling or knocking anything else over.   
  
When Clarke came into the work next day, she headed straight for the back. She was going to do her best to get supplies down before Bellamy showed up, just in case an incident would happen again. But when Clarke opened the door, she found a black stool with little heart stickers all over it. When she drew closer, she realized it also had her name on it.   
  
Clarke scowled. Bellamy was just making fun of her about this. She went back to the front of the store, only to find Bellamy wiping down tables and whistling.   
  
"What is THAT?"  
  
He stopped and leaned forward on the table.   
  
"What’s what, princess?"  
  
She frowned and gestured wildly toward the stock room. "You know."  
  
"Oh, that," Bellamy drawled. "I believe the words you're looking for is thank you."  
  
"I don't need this!"  
  
The smile dropped from his face. "I was just trying to help-"  
  
"With little heart stickers? Really."  
  
"Maybe that was pushing the envelope-"  
  
"Just a little," Clarke deadpanned.   
  
"How else was I supposed to get your attention in a nonconventional way?"  
  
Clarke’s eyes widened. "Wait, what?"  
  
Bellamy ran his hand through his hair and looked at the ceiling as if asking for divine patience.  "Princess, you never pay any attention to me unless I'm irritating you. I thought I would try a different approach, but I guess it worked in a bittersweet way. "  
  
"Bittersweet?"  
  
He smiled sadly at her. "You’re talking to me, but you think I'm being mean."  
  
"Bellamy, I-"  
  
"It’s fine, Clarke. Better get started on the morning round. Use the stool or don't. I don't care. “He resumed wiping the counters, but the playful whistle had died from his lips.   
  
Clarke returned to the stock room and peered at the daunting shelf. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. Maybe Bellamy and she had more chemistry than she previously thought. That’s why their banter worked so well, and his had become less barbed the past couple of weeks.    
  
With one last look at the door, she pulled the stool out and easily got the supplies down. Clarke carried them to their workstation and began to put them away.   
  
Bellamy leaned over the counter and looked curiously at the supplies. "You used the stool?"  
  
"Maybe," Clarke said as she bit her lip. “Look, I-"  
  
"No, it's fine, Clarke. I didn't expect you to feel the same way. No pressure." Bellamy smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes.   
  
Deciding to trust her gut, she grabbed his shirt before he was able to lean away from the counter and pressed her lips to his. He responded eagerly, pressing his hands to cup her cheeks. She wound her fingers through his curly hair, and pulled him as close as she possibly could with a counter separating them.   
  
When the pulled apart, Bellamy rested his forehead on hers. "I'm really hoping you meant that," he said with a raspy voice.   
  
"Just because I'm a little stubborn sometimes doesn't mean I can't make right decisions when it's important."  
  
Needless to say, that was only the start of a different kind of banter at the coffee shop. 


	4. chapstick, chapped lips, and things like chemistry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt #4
> 
> "you are very tall and I am very short so you run into me all the time and honestly this is getting ridiculous")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @skeleton-ships :)

High school was a dangerous place for any teenager, but it was especially life-threatening when you were short. Clarke was constantly on edge throughout the day, especially during the five minute passing periods. She got ran over constantly, but no one was a more common offender than Bellamy blake.   
  
He was the school's starting quarterback and the king of the school. To his own credit he wasn't the kind of popular that demanded everyone to like him; they either revered him or feared him. Bellamy was fine with either as long as people stayed out of way. Clarke did her best to stay out of his way as much as possible, but when you're that short in a crowd of people much taller than you, you can't necessarily see where you're going. At all.   
  
At first, Clarke chalked it off as an accident. The second, an unlucky coincidence. The third, annoying as all get out. When the fourth time rolled around, Clarke was ready to bite his head off, screw his popularity.   
  
She got to the point where she started taking alternate routes to her classrooms. Sure, Clarke still got jostled and bumped around, but it was better than face planting into Bellamy's chest. It had been humiliating enough the first four times, thank you very much. He had just smirked down at her and quipped some sarcastic or innuendo laden comment about the situation. The third time it happened, he even had the gall to place his hands on her upper arms to "steady" her. As eloquent as Clarke was, she could never seem to respond with such vigor, and usually ended up mumbling that she was sorry, turning red, and scampering off. Fortunately, switching routes had solved that problem.   
  
The next week, Clarke was headed to her philosophy class like any other Monday when she ran into none other than Bellamy Blake. Her books fell to the floor and she followed suit. She sat up and rubbed her back. "Okay, Blake," she found her voice. "I understand you play football, but keep it out on the field, and STOP SHOULDER CHECKING THE OTHER, SMALLER UPPERCLASSMEN." Clarke scowled at him, and was pleased to see that he flinched, even if only a little bit.   
  
He offered her a hand, but his signature wicked grin remained on his face. Clarke reluctantly accepted it. She turned without another look to go before she was late and heard him call in a teasing tone, "same time tomorrow, Griffin?"  
  
He only laughed when she gave him the finger.   
  
Sure enough, he was there the next day. Surprisingly, he didn't physically assault her as per usual. she glared at him. "What do you want?"  
  
He took on an offended persona. "Who, me? I just wanted to walk you to class..."   
  
Despite herself, Clarke couldn't resist those puppy dog eyes.   
  
"Fine," she grumbled, shoving her textbooks into his chest. "But you have to carry these."  
  
Bellamy acquiesced without protest, easily falling into step with Clarke. Where he walked, people scrambled out of the way. She began to think that either she never watched where she was going or Bellamy definitely chose to run into her every day.   
  
She sighed. "Why do you choose to torment me?"  
  
He chuckled lightly, and nudged her shoulder with his. "It’s fun. And you're cute when you're flustered."  
  
Clarke whipped her head around to find him actually looking shockingly sincere for once. She stopped in the middle of the hallway. Bellamy looked concerned and followed suit. "What’s wrong?"  
  
She poked at his chest. "Who are you and what did you do with Bellamy Blake?"  
  
He grabbed her finger and didn't let go when she tried to pull away. The crowd flowed like a river around an island, ebbing and increasing around the edges of the halls. Clarke knew that they were being an obstruction, but at the moment, she could care less.   
  
"What do you mean?" he asked, brow furrowed.   
  
"What happened to the boy who runs me over constantly and never apologizes?"  
  
Bellamy looked a little embarrassed. "Oh, that?"  
  
"Yes, that," she agreed flatly.   
  
"It was a coincidence-"  
  
"It definitely wasn't, I see how people part the hallways for you. If it happened once or twice, that's understandable. But not FIVE. and even if it was a coincidence, that doesn't explain why you're walking me to class."  
  
Bellamy ran his hand through his hair nervously and took a deep breath. "The first time was an accident, I swear. But then I noticed you're the only one who doesn't treat me different..." he trailed off. "But I liked it. And I tried to get your attention the rest of the day, but you were either busy with your friends or a book and you never gave me the time of day. I figured if the only chance I have to get your attention is to run into you in the godforsaken hallway, so be it."  
  
Clarke couldn't help but laugh. "You run into me in the hallway to get my attention?"  
  
He ducked his head. "Murphy said it was a good idea."  
  
"You could talk to me, you know," she offered. "I'm not that unapproachable."  
  
"I was afraid you'd shut me down. Like this," he sighed.   
  
She took her books from him with a smile that hadn't graced her face in a while. "Just so you know, I'm not shutting you down. Try talking to me sometime rather than steamrolling me in the hallway."   
  
Clarke left him astounded in the middle of the hallway. When she got to her class, Raven pounced. "What happened? Why are you almost late? You’re never almost late."  
  
"I got a little held up."   
  
"by who?" Raven leaned in excitedly.   
  
"Let’s just say the hallway encounter with Blake ran a little smoother than normal," Clarke answered, covering a smile with her hand.   
  
"As in...?"  
  
"He’s been running into me on purpose, and he walked me to class today," Clarke admitted.   
  
Raven slammed her hand on the table. "YES. I so called it. You owe me ten, Monty!"  
  
"Miss Reyes, you are disrupting my classroom. Be quiet or you will be sent to the office."  
  
Raven frowned and leaned back into her desk, leaving Clarke to stew over what happened by herself. all in all, she had to admit, this would be the start of something very different. She wasn't quite sure where it would lead, but she was sure she would like it. 


	5. small spaces, big surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt #5
> 
> "I'm in art class and I just opened a cupboard to find a tiny person (you) squished inside and you just looked at me and said "shhh I'm hiding"
> 
> for midnightrain910 :))

Bellamy loved his TA job. He really did. But what he didn't love was running errands for his teacher, especially ones that were NOT necessary for Bellamy to do, such as this one in particular. 

He had been sent off on a 'mission' to retrieve certain prints of late renaissance art from the art wing, but Bellamy had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't the reason he was wasting his TA's time with simple errands. His professor had a crush on one of the art department professors-one who specialized in Renaissance art. Go figure. 

Bellamy assumed in addition to whatever art had been prepared for him to grab there would be some sort of note. He didn't know, didn't want to know. Whatever got his TA period over with quicker. He was a no nonsense type of person, and the less drama he could get himself involved with, the better. 

He reluctantly ascended the steps of the art building. Honestly, Bellamy appreciated the actual building more than its content. It had been beautifully assembled, and even though it was old, it was still architecturally incredible. He burst through the doors, purposefully striding towards the left wing. 

Bellamy pushed the heavy wooden door open slowly. "Hello?" he called cautiously. The lights were on, but no one seemed to be around. Bellamy groaned internally. This was just going to make finding the prints that much harder. He checked her desk first, but it was only covered in a random assortment of pens, post it notes, and half-finished sketches. 

With utter annoyance, he began to search the rest of the room. The desks yielded no results, and neither did the cabinets. He was surprised her TA wasn't even around, and even more surprised she hadn't at least made some sort of effort to make it easy for Bellamy to find the art. 

As a last option, Bellamy sauntered toward the back of the room, aiming for the built in cabinets. He rifled through the first two with no luck, but was met with a surprise at his findings in the third. 

The sight of a small blonde curled in the bottom of the cabinet greeted him. He canted his head, but before he could question her, she silenced him. 

"Shhh!" she said determinedly. "I'm hiding."

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at her. No matter how adorable she looked, she was still hiding in a cabinet...in an empty classroom. 

Footsteps sounded down the hall, and the girl looked at him desperately. "Please! Close the door."

He shut the door quickly, spinning to face a young man, about the girl's age, opening the art room door. "Hi, he said hurriedly. "Have you seen Clarke?"

Bellamy sighed, crossing his arms. "Do I look like I care?"

The boy looked distraught, running his hand through his long hair. "Please? She’s my--well--just, if you see her, tell her Finn was looking for her. "

He disappeared as quickly as he had entered, and the blonde threw the cabinet door open. 

"Thank you," she gushed and then glanced distastefully at the door. "He’s my ex, and for some reason, he thinks he still has a chance."

Entranced by Clarke and her ferocity, and being not quite in control of his filter, he asked, "Does he?"

She turned back to him with a smile. "Not at all."

"Do I?"

She pretended to give him a once over, finger tapping her chin. "Considering you saved me, I say I at least owe you a chance."

"One that I'll gladly take," Bellamy said with an easy grin. 

This was the first time Bellamy had walked out of the art building in a good mood, and it certainly wasn't the last.


	6. i will kick you, i swear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt #6
> 
> "we're on the bus and I'm really not trying to take up your space I'm sorry I just have rly long legs"
> 
> for @lannabanzai! :) (lana)

Clarke freaking loved her class road trips. She attended a small school that could afford to rent a charter bus to send the kids on educational overnight field trips. Clarke was beyond ecstatic. That is, until it came time for sleeping. 

Sleeping in cars is uncomfortable, but sleeping on the bus was worse. Everyone had a "bus buddy" and there were no extra seats. This meant the students either had to share the seats, or one student slept on the floor while the other took the seats. 

Raven opted for the seats, pulling the "I have a jank leg" card, which Clarke had to begrudgingly acquiesce to. Raven rarely ever pulled the leg card, so when she did, she got want she wanted. She hated being pitied, but she liked sleep more. 

As Clarke sat on the floor, she eased down so her head was under the seats and her feet jutted out into the aisle. She was pretty short, so she was able to fully stretch out. This provided as decent as a sleeping position as one could get on the bus. 

Clarke was almost asleep when she was rudely kicked by someone else across the aisle. Figuring it was an accident, she turned over, only to be kicked again. She sat up and hissed, "knock it off. I'm not even taking up much room at all."

The offender sat up, and as Clarke’s vision adjusted in the dark, she saw a tall, broad shouldered, aesthetically attractive high school boy. He looked sheepish and pulled his legs closer to his body. 

"I'm really sorry," he said in a rush. "I don't mean to be taking up your space. I just," he gestured to his long legs. "have really long legs. I'm really sorry, I'll try to be more careful." 

He began to lie down, but Clarke put a hand on his knee, stopping him. "It’s okay..."

"Bellamy," he supplied helpfully. 

"Bellamy," she said, letting the boy's name situate on her tongue. It fit him extremely well. It meant handsome in French, and that he was. "It really is okay.”

He smiled at her, reclining back. "Sleep well," Bellamy said, disappearing back into the shadows. 

"You too," Clarke whispered. That night, instead of being caught up with her unfortunate sleeping situation (and even in spite of Bellamy's promise, he did kick her a few more times), she slept well and had some very interesting dreams, which may or may not have included the boy across the aisle.


	7. shot to the heart (and you're to blame)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt #7
> 
> "we're at a concert and I can't see a thing let me sit on your shoulders, maybe?"
> 
> for jordyn :)))

Bellamy was beyond stoked. He often frequented such large concerts, but he had never had such a great spot. He had tried front row before, and while he loved how close he was and how great of pictures he could take, the constant jostling did nothing but disrupt his practice. The back wasn't any better. His camera was nice, but a camera can only zoom so much before it starts to look grainy. He needed to be closer, but not surrounded by a mosh pit.   
  
His spot of choice this time around had been provided by the venue and his lucky stars. He hadn't intended to stay there. it was an outside venue, and the ground wasn't completely flat. Bellamy had decided to go to higher ground to scope out a spot, but when he found this spot was maybe 50 feet from the stage and off to the right, he knew it was the perfect place to stay.   
  
Although he was a photographer, Bellamy was no professional, and did not receive a coveted reserved spot down front. It was one thing to take pictures front row, but to have a blocked off area behind the barricade where you could take them without being disrupted...that's the life.   
  
However, he still was one of the first to make it in, and found his prized spot before the rest of the crowd began to swarm in around him.   
  
Before he knew it, the concert was in full swing. The opening act came out, and the crowd was completely ecstatic. Bellamy silently gave thanks for his height in situations like this. He could easily see around the short girls and teenage guys who hadn't grown into their height yet. He continued snapping pictures to his heart's delight.   
  
Halfway through the opening act, he felt a tap on his shoulder from a very short blonde with hands crossed over her chest. Despite being small, she seemed determined to hold her space, and stood her ground like a warrior. She would be intimidating if she wasn't, you know, 5 feet tall.   
  
"Can I help you?" Bellamy asked, returning his focus to the camera. He was just about to get the perfect shot of the lead guitarist when she hit him again on the shoulder, harder this time.   
  
She looked as if she meant business. "I can't see."  
  
Bellamy narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm not standing in front of you."  
  
"Yeah, well, can I sit on your shoulders?" at this point the girl at least had the decency to look a tad sheepish. This wasn't something you often asked friends, let alone strangers.   
  
"Do I not look busy?" he gestured to his camera.   
  
She waved him off. "If that's what you're worried about, I'm an art major with a minor in photography. I'm sure I'll be able to see better than you can up there. I can take better pictures. "  
  
"I don't even know your name."  
  
"Clarke," the girl offered. "Do we have a deal or not?"  
  
"Fine," he muttered begrudgingly. "Just don't drop my baby."  
  
"Wouldn’t dream of it," Clarke drawled.   
  
Bellamy set his equipment down and let her clamber onto his back. He handed up the camera to her with a warning of "be careful or this will NOT be good for you." Clarke just chuckled and patted his head in amusement, her hand lingering in his curls just a second too long. When Bellamy looked up at her with a questioning glance, she just smirked at him and began to focus the camera.   
  
Even with a girl on his back, Bellamy could still see relatively well, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was having more fun than he normally had at concerts. When he snuck glances at the girl on his shoulders, he was satisfied with the fact that she was having a great as time as he was. From time to time they exchanged witty banter in between belting out every line from every song. Bellamy loved the band, and apparently so did Clarke, if her awkwardly all out dancing to the music was any indication. But when she caught his eye she didn't get embarrassed, she just smiled. Bellamy knew at that very moment he wanted to know this girl.   
  
As the concert ended and people began to file out of the venue, Clarke stayed perched on his shoulders until there was room to set her down. She then hopped down, dusted herself, and handed him his camera. "Thanks," Clarke said with a bright smile. As she turned to go, Bellamy's hand (of its own accord, he swears) latched around her wrist. "Uh, wait."  
  
She canted her head with a knowing smile, prodding him to make his next move.   
  
"Can I have your number?"  
  
She pulled out a sharpie and turned over his hand to scrawl numbers on the back, followed by a heart. "Took you long enough," Clarke said with a playful grin and sauntered off.   
  
Bellamy was probably the last one out of the venue, but he could care less. This was the best day ever. 


	8. rhyme and rhythm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt #8
> 
> "you're afraid that you'll lose me in big crowds so you always hold my hand but now you just hold my hand when there's only, like, 5 people around and I'm getting v suspicious"
> 
> for chloe! :)

It started as a reasonable solution.   
  
Octavia was in a punk rock band, and Bellamy was her biggest supporter. He went to every concert, and pushed his way to the front every time. The only person that rivaled his own dedication was Octavia's best friend, Clarke. She was absolutely enthralled with the atmosphere, and was responsible for the design of both of Octavia's band's album covers.   
  
Over time, Bellamy and Clarke started going together. It was a thing of convenience; they had only met once or twice before. But it saved gas, and they always had the best tickets available, so it just made things easier.   
  
Not to mention the fact that Clarke constantly got lost in the crowd. It was a matter of concern for Octavia. The day Clarke showed up with bruises on her upper arms from being manhandled in the crowd that Octavia decided the only person who could keep her safe at these things would be Bellamy. Clarke protested, as she always did, but consented when 'Tavia showed her a picture of her brother. Hey, Clarke may be single and driven, but she wasn't hopeless. He was attractive and he went to punk rock concerts, what else could a girl ask for?  
  
When they met it was only platonic. Bellamy liked to tease her and Clarke would always fight him on it. It was their mantra, it was how they were. They fell into an easy rhyme and rhythm of banter and head banging.   
  
Bellamy was absolutely determined to "keep her from getting lost and bruised again" as Octavia had so nicely put it. One night when she got sucked away into the swirling vortex of the mosh pit, his hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her back, a worried look adorning his face. Bellamy had done a thorough inspection to check her safety, and they proceeded to the front again.   
  
When it happened the second time, he grabbed her wrist as a precaution, but when she started to look uncomfortable at the gesture, he maneuvered his hand into hers. Clarke was glad it was dark so he couldn't see how red her face was. even though their relationship was platonic, he was still...Bellamy. Overprotective, bossy, handsome…Bellamy. Clarke couldn't deny that she liked him, but she wanted to deny the fact that he was only holding her hand out of necessity. She didn't want herself to hope for something that would never happen. To Clarke, false hope was the worst thing there was.   
  
It became a regular routine, which both surprised and delighted Clarke. She let herself revel in those nights, and let go when he let go of her hand. he never said anything afterwards, never mentioned a word of it, ever. Clarke got to the point where it didn't even seem abnormal anymore, that's just how it was.   
  
Until Octavia threw a party.   
  
It wasn't really a party, per se; there were maybe six or seven friends of hers present. Still, they were all laughing, drinking, and having a wonderful time when Bellamy casually reached down to clasp hands with Clarke. She couldn't help but look up at him in surprise; he had never done this outside of the concert venue. He looked completely at ease and unaware of the fact he had thrown Clarke off kilter at all.   
  
He continued to hold it off and on for the rest of the night. Clarke fielded questioning glances of Octavia with shrugs of her own. She didn't know; this was new to her. But she was afraid if she asked Bellamy, he'd let go. She didn't want him to let go.   
  
At the end of the night, Bellamy and Clarke walked out to his car. He had picked her up, so he was her ride home. When they situated themselves in the car, Bellamy talked just as he always did. about the latest butler game, about the last book he read, and how he had fun at Octavia's.   
  
Clarke finally couldn't take it. "Why did you hold my hand tonight?"  
  
Bellamy shot her a half interested side glance. "Why wouldn't I?"  
  
She felt at a loss for words. "I..."  
  
He sighed, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Please tell me you're kidding, princess."  
  
She shrugged helplessly, eyes trained on her lap. "I don't know."  
  
He finally looked at her, the smile dropped off his face. "You’re serious, aren't you?" Bellamy pulled the car over and put in park. "Clarke. We’re a couple. Why wouldn't I hold your hand?"  
  
"We’re a couple?" she asked in an unbelieving tone.   
  
"Yes, Clarke!" he sounded exasperated.   
  
"Well, I was never informed of this."   
  
"Why else would I hold your hand? We spend so much time together, I just thought-it was instinct-maybe you don't, I--"  
  
Clarke pressed a hand to his cheek. "You like me?" she asked softly.   
  
"Yes, princess," Bellamy affirmed, leaning into her touch. "Since day one."  
  
Clarke couldn't help the grin that grew on her face, or the fact that she surged forward to kiss him, which he happily responded to.   
  
What could she say? It was a… reasonable solution. 


End file.
